


Sitting in a Tree

by eleanor_lavish



Category: British Comedy RPF, One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Humor, M/M, Matchmaking, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m running out of fingers,” Nick says, shaking his head in faux disappointment at James and his slutty, slutty ways.  “You’re a manslut for boykisses, Corden, admit it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sitting in a Tree

**Author's Note:**

> For OliviaCirce, who wants Harry Styles: Poly Fairy like burning. I'm going to do my best!

“I’m not, though,” James says, laughing hard enough that his eyes are closed, his head thrown back against the cushions. It’s Nick’s favorite James - all ridiculousness and softness and _warmth_ , especially where he’s plastered against Nick’s side on the sofa.

“And that time with DanRad, and that other time at that party where Jack drank the thousand dollar scotch, and _any_ time Dominic shows up at anything anywhere, and Matty Smith, _jesus_ , it’s like tonsil-hockey central with you two,” Nick ignores him and continues his list, ticking off boys on his fingers. “I’m running out of fingers,” he says, shaking his head in faux disappointment at James and his slutty, slutty ways. “You’re a manslut for boykisses, Corden, admit it.”

James rolls his head and grins at Nick blearily - it’s possible they’ve gone a nightcap too far, but Nick’s never sure where that line is until well after he’s crossed it, so. “I suppose, looking at the evidence, that that is possibly true,” he says, eyes crinkled in the corners in that way that makes Nick’s stomach hurt. “It’s good for a laugh, innit?” he adds, and Nick’s stomach twists, like it always does, like it’s just been waiting for that. 

“Mmm,” Nick hums and pours himself another gin and whatever-he-had-in-the-cupboards. It’s well after midnight and the after-after party for something ridiculous has ended up at Nick’s place, though somehow he forgot to invite anyone who wasn’t James. Well, and Harry, who is currently asleep face-down on the bed in the guest room, because he’s a growing boy and needs his rest, and also possibly because ate three of Daisy’s Special Cookies and chased them with a fifth of Jack Daniels. 

“Speaking of mansluts and boykissing,” James leans in and elbows at Nick’s side, not hard enough to hurt because it’s James and he doesn’t do anything with his body that would hurt another person ever (except sometimes kiss them). “You and Harry, hm?” James waggles his eyebrows and Nick chokes on a sip of his drink.

“No,” he says, being as firm as he can while still listing sideways. “No, nope, nein, never.”

James is giggling. “Me think you doth -”

“Seriously, no, not at all ever. He’s a child.”

“You like children,” James waggles his eyebrows again.

“Not actual ‘leaves his shoes in the hall, drinks juice from the box, watches cartoons on the weekend’ children, no. Not my type. He’s just my… my Harry, I guess. The little brother I never asked for but who showed up on my doorstep with puppy eyes and half a dozen paparazzi.”

James tilts his head on Nick’s shoulder and Nick lets his eyes drift closed, allows himself the excruciating pleasure of resting his cheek on the top of James’ head. “So you get to teach him life lessons, like how to throw a football and how to buy condoms without shame.”

Nick snorts. “Harry buys condoms in bulk on the internet.”

“Ah, the student has surpassed the master,” James intones wisely and Nick thwacks him in the head with a stray throw pillow. James laughs again, the full body kind that Nick can feel everywhere, and he remembers where this conversation started.

“No, but seriously,” he says, make a valiant attempt at sounding serious and probably failing by a mile. He doesn’t know why he’s poking this particular demon; it’s only going to end in heartbreak. It’s already ended in heartbreak. He can pinpoint his heartbreak to a gorgeous autumn day, with Julia resplendent in white. “Your boykissing fetish has not gone unnoticed, sir. You’re not worried about rumors?”

“There are rumors?” James asks, sounding frankly chuffed at the idea, and Nick rolls his eyes toward the ceiling.

“No, there are no rumors,” Nick says truthfully. He would have quashed every one of them himself had he heard any - James is grossly in love with his wife, and his baby boy, and no amount of manslutty boykisses will change that fact.

“Bah,” James says, winding his arm around Nick’s waist and snuggling closer. “Shows what they know, eh?”

And Nick can’t even formulate a response to that, doesn’t even know what to do with the jumble of yes-please-what-no-don’t-don’t-stop running around in his head. By the time he thinks he should say something or risk getting caught out with his giant crush waving in the breeze ( _better than other things waving in the breeze,_ Harry would tell him), he’s waited too long and James is fast asleep against his shoulder.


End file.
